The sun had already set over the small, sleepy town of Millfield. The streetlights flickered on as the first few stars began to appear in the sky. The only sound that could be heard was the gentle rustling of leaves and the occasional car driving by. It was a peaceful evening, except for one thing: there was a killer on the loose. A serial killer who had already taken three lives in just two weeks.
The sun had set behind the mountains, casting an eerie glow over the desolate town of Ravenwood. The streets were barren, and the only sound was that of rats scurrying through piles of garbage. But despite its abandoned appearance, there was something unusual about this place. Something unsettling that made even the bravest of souls shudder with fear. It was said that Ravenwood was cursed - a place where nightmares came to life and sanity went to die.
It was a dark and stormy night, the kind that sends chills down your spine. As I drove through the empty roads of the countryside, my mind wandered to the last conversation I had with my wife before leaving home. She warned me about taking this route but I shrugged it off as her being paranoid. But now, as I struggled to see through the heavy rain and mist, I wished I had listened to her.